


leave the lights on when you stay

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: BDSM, Multi, Polyamory, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:29:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey has his work, and he has Pete, and everything is figured out. He knows how to live his life.</p><p>Gabe upsets the balance, but maybe that's okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leave the lights on when you stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [romanticalgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/gifts).



Mikey got home around five AM, letting himself in as quietly as he could and creeping on his tiptoes through the apartment to the bedroom. Pete was sprawled across the bed, arms and legs flung wide, making a nice picture for Mikey to admire while he toed off his shoes and stripped off his t-shirt and sweats.

Pete opened his eyes when Mikey lay down on the sliver of mattress left for him. “You’re home.”

“Yeah.” Mikey kissed Pete’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

Pete rolled onto his side, gathering up his limbs and leaving more space for Mikey to move into, enjoying the warmth of Pete’s body on the sheets and on his skin.

“Went okay?” Pete asked, yawning and throwing his leg over Mikey’s.

“Yeah.” Mikey kissed him again and closed his eyes. Pete felt good against him, the familiar heat and shape of his body against the sore spots and low aches of Mikey’s own. “All systems go, nothing weird.”

“Cool.” Pete yawned again. “Got tomorrow night off, right?”

“Tonight,” Mikey corrected. “And tomorrow too.”

“Meant tomorrow. It’s the thing at school. You know, the thing I told you about?”

Mikey searched his memory and came up zero, but nodded anyway and pulled the blanket higher over them. “Yeah.”

“Free food.”

“Mm. Awesome.”

“Boring speeches, but free food.”

“Go back to sleep.” Mikey tried to match his breathing to Pete’s, like maybe they’d melt into each other if he could. Merge together forever.

“Love you,” Pete mumbled.

“Love you too.” Mikey could feel the ache of the bruises up and down his back and on his ass settling in already. If he was smart he would get up and take some anti-inflammatories now.

He was more comfortable than smart, though. He took another slow breath, and another, and drifted off with Pete warm in his arms.

**

The thing at school turned out to be a grad student free-for-all. Pete’s poli sci department friends were there, and Mikey saw name tags declaring math, kinesiology, physics, med school, and library science before he got distracted by the buffet table and stopped paying attention.

It was nice, as university events went. Pete introduced him to new people and then went off to talk department stuff. Mikey hovered by the buffet table and rotated through Twitter, Facebook, his personal email, and the business email that fed from his website.

There wasn’t much going on tonight, though, which was boring.

“So does your boyfriend know what you do?”

Mikey looked up and blinked. A tall guy with dark hair and a nametag declaring him to belong to the business school was standing next to him with a plate of spinach dip.

“Excuse me?” Mikey said finally.

“Does your boyfriend know?”

“Does my boyfriend know what?”

The guy—Gabe, his nametag also declared him to be Gabe—dipped a pita wedge, ate it, flicked the dust from his fingers, and raised his eyebrows. “What you do for a living.”

Mikey exhaled and ran his phone back and forth across the lockscreen of his phone. “I would imagine he knows it better than you do, given that you’re a complete stranger.”

“I asked him what you did, and he said you’re a freelance personal assistant. Which isn’t actually a thing, I’m pretty sure.” Gabe ate another chip. “I was just wondering if he knows what you _really_ do.”

“What is it you think that I really do?”

“I know what you really do.” Gabe frowned at the last pita chip on his plate. “I’ve been to your website.”

Mikey bit down on his tongue for a moment. “Then you know discretion is pretty fucking important and maybe you could not spread it all over the grad student welcome party.”

“I’m not spreading anything.” Gabe picked up the chip and bit into it.

“Just asking questions.”

Gabe nodded. “I’m honestly curious if he knows.”

“It’s really none of your business.”

“I’m making conversation.”

Mikey had to laugh. “Pretty ballsy conversation.”

“My specialty.” Gabe tossed his plate into the trash and wiped his hands on his thighs. “Nice meeting you.”

“That’s it? You ask invasive questions and then leave?”

“I do a lot of things.” Gabe winked at him. “See you around.”

**

Mikey wanted to tell Pete about the guy when they got home--maybe Pete knew what the fuck that was all about, or would know how to handle it so nobody got in trouble--but Pete was feeling amorous after the party. Mikey made a point of not turning down amorous, especially since they moved to Chicago and Pete started grad school and their schedules shot off in opposite directions. Plus Pete spent a lot of time tired and stressed out. Mikey missed getting laid on the regular.

So when Pete grinned at him and put his hand on Mikey's ass and said, "Hey, uh, you want to stay up a little longer?" Mikey promptly filed Gabe the business student as something to deal with later and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend.

Pete wrapped his arms around Mikey and pressed up close, making growly little noises against his mouth. "Gonna eat me up?" Mikey asked, backing them down the hall toward the bedroom.

"You know it." Pete slid his hands under Mikey's shirt. "Cannibalism and everything."

"Hot." Mikey closed his eyes and kissed Pete again, reveling for a moment in just... them. Together in their place, going to their bed, getting friendly and maybe a little bit freaky and nothing had fallen apart yet.

"I'm so fucking in love with you," he said, opening his eyes and pulling back enough to look at Pete. "Just so you know."

Pete grinned. "I'm pretty fucking in love with you, too. You want me to prove it?"

"Lots."

"On it." Pete smacked him on the ass. "Clothes off, Way."

**

The next day Pete didn't have to be on campus till the afternoon, so they slept almost that late. Mikey loved mornings when he could lie in bed with Pete warm and heavy beside him, snoring and drooling like an oversized puppy. It was the perfect kind of domestic gross that meant home.

He reached over Pete and grabbed his phone from the table, scrolling quickly through his pro email. Two client requests. He sat up and fumbled between the bed and the wall for Pete's tablet so he could compare requests to his schedule. This part was the annoying bit. Administrivia.

The first request was from one of his regulars, so that was easy enough. First available, confirmation email, add a quick "looking forward to seeing you!" at the end. Mikey had been working with this guy for almost a year now. He always wanted the same thing: Mikey to dress up in lingerie and eat dinner with him, sit with him to watch TV for a few hours, let the guy pee on him, and then go home. They were really nice evenings, actually. Non-stressful.

Mikey hadn't realized when he started subbing professionally that a lot of clients didn't care about him being _submissive_ at all. They just wanted someone who would let them indulge their kink or fetish or whatever without laughing. Mikey thought that was kind of cool. Really he got paid for not being an asshole to people about what they liked.

The next request was trickier; a guy who had hired Mikey three times scattered over a couple of months. Occasionals required a night when Pete was available to monitor check-ins and intervene if necessary. Mikey scrolled through the calendar looking for days marked in green.

"Hey," Pete mumbled. Mikey reached out to ruffle his hair. "Whatcha doing?"

"Scheduling."

"Mm. Anybody I know?"

"One regular, one occasional."

"Which regular?"

"Steve K."

"Not his real name," Pete said dramatically. "He's... lingerie and watersports?"

"Yeah."

"I like him." Mikey hid a smile; Pete's criteria for liking clients was 100% if Mikey liked them too. "Which occasional?"

"Brian X."

"Don't remember that one."

"Three times so far. Escalating bondage."

"Oh yeah." Pete frowned a little and rubbed his cheek against Mikey's knee. "Make sure I'm around for that."

"I'm looking for a green light. I need you to give me a few more weeks of greens when you have a chance, okay? We're hitting the end of what you put on here."

"Okay. I'll do it." Pete yawned. "You want me to make coffee or go get coffee?"

“Make it. When you come back I'll be done and we can mess around before you get ready for class. "

"You get so bossy when you're scheduling."

"Don't tell the clients."

"It's hot." Pete kissed him on the arm and climbed out of the bed. "Should offer doing their schedules as a special service."

"I'll think about it." Mikey put Brian's name down on a green night and sent a confirmation. No special note for him. They didn't have that kind of relationship yet.

**

Mikey forgot about telling Pete about Gabe’s weird questions until about a week later, when Pete asked him if he wanted to go to a bowling-karaoke-pizza party extravaganza.

“I think they forget if we’re grad students or twelve-year-olds,” Pete said, leaning on the counter and watching Mikey grimly attack their garbage disposal with a fork. “But hey, free food. What did you stick down there this time?”

“Nothing.” Mikey poked the fork in deeper. “It was making weird noises.”

“Ignore it until it goes away.”

“It never goes away.”

“Then just keep ignoring.” Pete poked him in the ribs. “So, you want to go?”

“Who’s going to be there?”

Pete shrugged. “It’s the grad student association, so… anybody. I think they think throwing us parties will make us forget that we’re slave labor being prepared for an untenable job market.”

“You never forget.”

“Not even for a minute. I had a nightmare about going on the market like two days ago.”

“I know.” Mikey put the fork down and turned the hot water on high. “You kicked me in the stomach.”

“Sorry.” Pete made a face. “So… do you want to go?”

“Yes, but we have to keep an eye out for that one guy.”

“What guy?”

Mikey turned the sink off. “I meant to tell you after the welcome party, but I forgot.”

“So tell me now.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re telling me that you’re going to tell me, which is not the same as telling me.”

Mikey sighed. “This guy from the business school gave me a hard time. He knows about my job and kept asking if you knew.”

Pete’s jaw tightened, his smile disappearing. Mikey hated that. He hated bringing Pete down, and he did it so much more often than he meant to.

“I’ll take care of it,” Pete said.

“I haven’t even told you who he is. Don’t go all mafia and weird. You’re not going to threaten anybody.”

“I might. Tell me who he is.”

“Pete. I don’t want any trouble. I don’t want _you_ in any trouble.”

“People giving you a hard time is trouble I can deal with.”

“But I don’t want you to.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

Mikey opened his mouth, then closed it. “Um.”

“Yeah.” Pete exhaled roughly and pounded his hand on the counter. “I like to think we’re in this together, Mikey.”

“We are.”

“Then act like it.”

“I am. I mean, the outcome is I am. I’m just fucking up in the middle.”

Pete smiled faintly, though the lines around his eyes stayed tight. “Someday you’ll really for real trust me.”

“I _do_.” Mikey groaned and turned the garbage disposal on and off, two quick stabs of the button. It growled and barked and made a popping noise. “Shit.”

He felt Pete’s hands on his waist, then Pete’s breath on his neck. “We’ve both got our issues, right?”

Mikey nodded and leaned back against him. “Yeah.”

“And you’ve also got a cute little flat ass.”

“That’s true.”

Pete kissed the base of his neck. “Tell me the guy’s name.”

Mikey gave in. It was nice to have someone want to protect him, even if it was almost definitely misguided and going to be a disaster. “Gabe something. He’s an MBA. Tall, dark hair. Kinda hot.”

“Thank you.” Pete kissed him again, then turned him around to kiss his mouth. “I’ll take care of it. Nobody messes with you.”

“You’re a paladin,” Mikey mumbled, closing his eyes and surrendering.

“Still don’t really know what that means.”

“It’s a good thing.”

Pete’s breath was warm and his fingers were fast and steady, undoing the fly of Mikey’s jeans. “So are you.”

**

Mikey left for his appointment that night before Pete got home from his night TA class. It was one of his regulars, who always wanted him to wear a ball gag and kneel by the couch while the guy hit him with a belt and ranted about his exes. He didn’t hit especially hard and his ranting was less violent than sad. Mikey didn’t mind nights with him, though he didn’t exactly look forward to them either.

He tipped fifty bucks, though. The Wentz-Way household was going out to dinner somewhere with cloth napkins.

He fell into bed when he got home and woke up sore, dehydrated, and alone, with a note on the bedside table saying Pete was at the library all day. Mikey shuffled to the kitchen and looked around for some kind of lunch possibility. Grocery shopping was one of Pete’s chores, and he apparently hadn’t done it, since all they had was beer, ice cream sandwiches, a can of tomatoes, and a can of chickpeas. Mikey ate the chickpeas raw with a spoon standing over the sink, staring out the window at the courtyard.

Sometimes it hit him all at once that this was real life, real grown-up life. Just standing in the place you lived, looking at the world, eating and breathing and thinking about what to do next. He couldn’t really think of anything exciting. Playing video games, or going for a walk. Maybe getting a haircut. He wished Pete was home; sex would be a nice way to pass the afternoon, too.

He had never expected to fall in love, like, ever; it seemed like something for other people, not him. Then he met Pete, and it still didn’t seem like anything that could happen. Pete was fronting a hardcore band, one that was kind of on the rise, maybe going places. Mikey was interning at Eyeball and working at the bookstore and waiting for real grown-up life to happen. He thought it would be announced with bells and a siren.

Pete’s band broke up in Pittsburgh and he called Mikey from a rest stop in the rain. If he could hitchhike to Philly, would Mikey come pick him up?

It wasn’t quite a siren, but it was something Mikey could recognize; he’d seen the same movies Pete had, after all, and it was a dramatic gesture out of any one of them. It was how you grabbed onto a person you’d decided not to let go, and he went for it, went _with_ it, let Pete take him in and stayed.

And one thing after another and one year after another and here he was. Belt marks up and down his back, chickpeas in hand, thinking about how when Pete got back from the library he was going to take him out for a nice dinner and then make out with him for a couple of hours.

Mikey rinsed the can out, put his spoon in the sink, and turned away from the window. Real life. Grown-up fuckin’ life.

He definitely needed a haircut.

**

Dinner and making out happened as scheduled, but after that Mikey didn’t see much of Pete for the rest of the week. He hated that; he could never quite shake the anxiety, the idea that Pete was going to leave, that Mikey would _lose_ him the way things got lost when you just got distracted for a minute. Paying attention was hard sometimes. Mikey always got distracted, and things fell through his fingers.

Pete left a lot of pieces of his life lying around, though, and Mikey could piece them together like clues. He had time on his hands during the day, and playing detective was kind of fun. He took the entries on Pete’s calendar about meeting with Dr. Paulson, and the angry scribbled post-it notes about citations, and the stack of books that migrated from table to bathroom to kitchen counter, and decided that Pete was probably co-authoring on a journal article, not leaving. People who were leaving didn’t expend so much rage on not being able to find copies of a paper from 1972.

Mikey didn’t want to risk getting distracted, so he tried to take up the slack; he went grocery shopping, he brought Pete sandwiches at his desk and towels in the shower, he dragged him to bed if Pete was still up when Mikey started winding down to sleep. He kissed Pete’s forehead. He touched his shoulder when he walked by. He thought at Pete as hard as he could _remember me, I remember you, I love you._

And sometimes Pete glanced up and smiled at him, wide and sweet and with soft eyes, and Mikey’s heart beat really fast. He thought about that when Pete was at the library or with Dr. Paulson or at class, and told himself they had this figured out. This being-together thing.

**

He woke up on Wednesday with another note next to the bed. _Draft due today at 1:30, I’m gonna kill it and we should meet for lunch. Be at Harry’s at 2? Xoxo double chili dog w cheese fries_.

Mikey smiled and rubbed his thumb over the paper. Living with Pete after a double chili dog was a biohazard of gas and horror. Mikey would have one too so it could be flat-out war.

He’d slept till 11:30, so there was time to shower, shave, and walk to campus with a detour to the comic shop to grab his new books. He would get to Harry’s early, with time to get a table and read a few of the issues before Pete got there, which was good. Being early made him less anxious. Being early and having something to _do_ with the time in the gap was even better. But he wouldn’t order the food til Pete got there, because ordering early meant the food would get cold, and that would be disappointing.

Mikey knew his tricks and rules for things were dumb, and that most people didn’t have to do them, but Pete said he should do what worked for him. Mikey trusted Pete’s judgment, because the last time he’d tried not to do what worked for him, he’d… well, he had to leave New Jersey. Bad enough.

He got to Harry’s and slid into a booth by the window, then fanned his comics out on the table and sorted them quickly, bringing the most important ones to the back so he could build up anticipation as he read. Pretty good week, six books and two of them were doing really good arcs, and one of the others was slow but had his favorite artist, and the other three were slow but not _boring_ at least. This would go great with a chili dog, and--

He felt someone looking at him and glanced up. The MBA guy, Gabe, was sitting at the next table, shoving a sandwich into his mouth and gathering up his notes one-handed, like he was in a race to get away.

“Oh,” Mikey said, gathering his comics back into a stack. “Hey.”

“Hey. Don’t worry, I’m leaving.”

“You don’t have to leave. It’s a free restaurant. I mean, anybody can eat here, not that you don’t have to pay. You know.”

Gabe smiled slightly but kept collecting his stuff. “Your boyfriend Pete made it very clear that I shouldn’t bug you ever again. Or look at you. Or be in the same room as you. He’s a little guy but he has a lot of violence in him.”

Mikey winced. That was his fault, getting Pete upset; Pete didn’t have any violence in him when he wasn’t angry. Or hurt, or upset, but those were different, they were just Pete protecting himself. “Sorry about that.”

Gabe glanced at him, brow furrowed. “Why? He was right, I was really inappropriate and creepy. I didn’t mean to be, but I was. I made you uncomfortable.”

Gabe’s hands were moving a way Mikey thought he recognized. He’d felt that way, moving quick and clumsy to escape the place where he wasn’t wanted. “I probably overreacted.”

“He didn’t think so.”

Mikey glanced around the room, then out the window, looking for Pete’s familiar shape coming down the street. Not there yet. “You really didn’t mean to be creepy?”

“No! I was trying to, like… start a conversation.” Gabe sighed and finished shoving his things into his backpack. “Not my strong point, obviously.”

“You want to sit down and hang out? Pete’s on his way.”

“You want to _see_ him murder me?”

Mikey shrugged. “He’ll be cool once I tell him you apologized.”

“I haven’t apologized.”

Apparently this was going to take a lot of prompting. “You could do it now.”

“Oh.” Gabe stood still for a minute, blinking at him. “I’m sorry I creeped you out. I saw your site linked on Reddit, and I clicked through and looked around, and then I recognized you and was an idiot.”

Mikey closed his eyes briefly. Being linked on Reddit happened every couple of months. Pain in the ass. “It’s cool.” He opened his eyes and nodded at the booth across from him. “Sit down?”

Gabe slid into the booth and hugged his backpack to his chest. “Comics, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mikey fanned them out again and touched the covers. “One of my hobbies.”

“What are the other ones?”

“Uh.” Mikey laughed a little, trying to keep the sound from coming out as a nasal honk and not quite making it. “Going to shows. Video games. Thrift shops. And BDSM.”

“Your hobby and your job?” Gabe rested his chin on top of the backpack. “I guess they say to do what you love.”

That was one of those things that people said where if you tried to explain how they were not wrong, but not right, that they were missing so many layers of complication that what they said wasn’t even _relevant_ , wasn’t even in the same language… it would take a couple of days. And you probably still wouldn’t really explain it well enough to get through. Mikey was bad at those conversations no matter what.

“I guess,” he said finally, rubbing his thumb over a tear in the corner of the plastic sleeve protecting Secret Six. “Oh. Pete! Hey. Back here.”

Gabe sat up straighter as Pete came back to the table. “I apologized,” he said before Pete did more than look at him. “Straight-up, man.”

Pete swung his gaze from Gabe to Mikey. “Yeah?”

‘Straight-up’ wasn’t really right, but Mikey didn’t want to fight about it. “Yeah. It’s cool. Sit, I’ll get your dog and stuff.”

“Thank you, babyface.” Pete kissed him and slid into the booth. “You’re the awesomest.”

Mikey let his head fall against Pete’s shoulder for a moment, hiding his face in the smell of Pete’s shirt. Sweat and detergent and a little bit of smoke. “Who were you smoking with?” Mikey mumbled.

“Tom.” Pete bit him lightly on top of the head and Mikey pulled away, sitting up straight and glancing at Gabe to see his reaction. There wasn’t much of one; he was just… watching.

“I’ll be right back,” Mikey said, and hurried up to the counter to get food for himself and Pete. He made himself count up and down to a hundred while he waited, so he wouldn’t stare at Pete and Gabe sitting at the table together. It was good to be cool about things.

When he came back with their chili dogs, Gabe reached out and poked the edge of Pete’s plate. “Doesn’t that make you sick?

“It makes me toxic.” Pete grinned and took a bite, opening his mouth so they both got a good view. “But it’s so fucking good. Worth it.”

“I’m gonna remind you you said that when you’re stuck on the toilet.” Mikey stole one of his fries.

“That doesn’t happen every time.”

“Four out of five.”

“That’s still not every time.” Pete grinned again. “Math.”

“Not math,” Gabe said. “Just numbers.”

“What’s the difference?”

Gabe leaned forward, his eyes intent. “Math is _doing_ things with numbers. If they just, like, exist, it’s not math yet.”

“Huh.” Pete swallowed. “I’ll give you that one.”

Mikey glanced back and forth between them. The both felt… different. Higher-energy, more edgy. Sparking off each other. “What were you guys talking about while I was gone?”

Gabe settled back in his seat and turned his gaze to Mikey. The energy head-on felt like his skin was buzzing. If it went on too long it might start to hurt. “There’s a good show this weekend. I was telling him you guys should come.”

“Friday or Saturday?”

“Saturday.”

Mikey picked at the end of his chili dog. “I have a thing.” Pete’s shoulders fell, and Mikey winced, gathering up a blob of chili on his fingertip. “You should go, though, Pete.”

“No, I’ll stay home in case you need me.”

Gabe was watching them both now, trying to look like he didn’t know what they were talking about, but he _did_ , and Mikey _knew_ he did, and it fucking sucked, knowing he needed to be ashamed of himself for Pete’s benefit even if he wasn’t for his own.

“It’s a regular,” he said, dropping his voice so he could pretend he was only talking to Pete. “Steve K. It’s fine, you should go out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Pete was looking at him sharply, his eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched. Mikey never knew what to do when Pete looked at him like that; he was obviously disappointing him, but if he lied or pretended he didn’t feel how he felt, Pete would be even _more_ disappointed, and then mad at himself, and then it was bullshit for days.

“Are you _really_ sure?” Pete asked.

“Yes.” Mikey gripped his thigh under the table to keep from looking at Gabe. “It’s fine. Go, have a good time, I’m just going to go to bed when I get home anyway.”

“But will you be okay going to bed without me there?”

Mikey couldn’t help it; he flicked a glance toward Gabe and felt himself start blushing furiously. Gabe was still watching them both with open interest. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you so you don’t worry.”

“Text me when you leave there and when you get home.”

“Okay.”

“And make sure you eat something. And have water.”

“Pete!” Mikey checked himself, digging his fingers harder into his thigh as he realized how sharp his voice had been. “It’s fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

Pete stared down at his chili dog, his jaw tightening, and the silence stretched out for an unsteady moment before Gabe cleared his throat and reached across to steal a fry.

“So this band is really good. Like nothing you’ve got out here. Pure New York.”

Pete launched into an aggressive defense of Chicago hardcore and Mikey slowly ate the rest of his chili dog, letting their argument wash around him while he focused on one bite at a time. Pete’s hand settled on the small of his back after a minute, rubbing tiny reassuring circles, and he focused on that and kept breathing until they cleaned up and went home.

**

Gabe and Pete got on like a house on fire. Mikey had read that saying somewhere, he couldn’t remember where, but it was a good description of how they were: all heat and light and noise.

The show was good; Pete came home exhausted and happy and smelling like a club: beer, smoke, stale sweat, staler cologne, post-show pizza. He crawled into bed still in his clothes, wrapped himself around Mikey, and passed out. In the morning Mikey got up and made coffee, waited for him to caffeinate his hangover, then climbed back into bed with him and let him narrate the whole show while they jerked each other off. It was hard to follow the story, because Pete kept interrupting it to kiss him or groan or talk about something he was going to do to Mikey’s ass in the very near future, but Mikey got enough of the gist of it to know it was a good night.

Pete had a new friend, and that was important. Pete being happy was _important_ , in a way few other things were in Mikey’s world. His job was to protect, not to be protected. He’d decided that and set things up a long time ago.

“I like him,” Pete said when they were tangled up together, sweat cooling on their skin, eyes drifting closed for a few more minutes of dozing before they dragged themselves off to the shower and being adults for the day. “We’re going to hang out again. You should come, too.”

“I’ll try.” From all the chopped-up bits and pieces that Pete had told him about their night out, Gabe was a fun dude. Mikey liked shows and clubs and late-night pizza. He liked smoking and getting sweaty and playing cool in front of the cops.

He rested his head on Pete’s shoulder, his face tucked into the hollow of Pete’s throat, and slowly breathed him in. He and Pete smelled like each other right now. Belonged to each other. Nothing in the world could change that, not now.

**

Mikey had long stretches of time free during the afternoons, while Pete was in classes or office hours. It made more sense for Mikey to be in charge of trips to the laundromat. That had seemed totally logical when they agreed on it.

What he'd failed to factor in was how much he hated doing laundry.

Pete still had two giant duffel bags from his soccer days, and Mikey grimly stuffed them full of dirty clothes until the seams strained. It was time; he was out of underwear and Pete had gone to class wearing running tights and a t-shirt with a penis drawn on it, which he half-disguised by tying a giant scarf around his neck despite the fact that it was April. It was definitely time, but he didn’t have to like it.

He put an arm through each bag’s handles and heaved them up onto his back, stood for a moment, and let them fall to the floor again. This sucked.

A knock came at the door while he was still staring at them and trying to calculate, like, ballast weight or something. He wasn’t an engineer. He couldn’t invent anything to get them down the stairs, around the corner, and a block up to the laundromat. All he had was his body, and his body was kind of bad at this.

He kicked one of the bags and went to open the door. “Yeah?”

Gabe was leaning against the wall. “Hi.”

“Oh. Hey.” Mikey blinked and glanced down the hall to the elevator, then up the other direction to the trash chute. “What’s up?”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a coffee.” Gabe hunched his shoulders a little and smiled. “Coffee and conversation. A little one-on-one to make up for being a dick and then you not being able to come out with Pete and me.”

Mikey absently filed away how Gabe said _Pete_ , with a new affection that definitely wasn’t there before. Of course, before Pete had been threatening to beat him up. “I always want coffee. But I have to do laundry.”

“We could get coffee while it’s washing?”

Mikey shook his head. “Dude, you gotta keep an eye on the machines or people will steal your shit.”

“Really? People do that?”

“I don’t know. I always watch the machines so they can’t.”

“Oh.” Gabe nodded and eased off the wall, standing up straight. “Well, what if I go get the coffee and bring it back while you watch the machines?”

“That could work.” Mikey looked over his shoulder at the duffel bags. “Can you help me carry it?”

“Totally. I am gifted at lifting and carrying. Laundry bags, groceries, random shit, bodies…” He stopped and looked at Mikey expectantly, then sighed. “You’re supposed to laugh at that.”

“I’m from Jersey.” Mikey hoisted one bag and handed it over. “I would never laugh at that.”

“I have also done my time in the Jerz. Springfield.”

“Belleville.” Mikey mentally reshuffled some of his assumptions about Gabe, based on Springfield. Huh.

“Nice. What brought you out here?”

Mikey lifted the other bag onto his shoulder. “Pete.”

“He packed you up and moved you cross-country?” Gabe headed down the hall, his long strides leaving Mikey hurrying to throw the lock and follow him.

“Not exactly. But kind of? He got into grad school and I came with him.”

“Why?”

Mikey frowned, nearly bumping into Gabe’s back as he stopped at the elevator. “Because we’re together.”

Gabe grinned at him. “You can say ‘because I love him.’ I won’t tell anybody.”

“Oh.” Mikey felt like he’d missed something, the rules of the conversation or… something. He felt like that a lot, but Gabe brought a whole new angle on it. “You can tell whoever you want. We’ve been together like three years now. I love him.”

“That is fucking sweet.” The elevator arrived with a dull ding, and Gabe stepped on, holding the door for Mikey. “You two are cute. It, like. It makes my heart feel all big, man.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

Gabe stared at him, really startled. “No! Not even a little bit.”

Mikey realized that yet again, he’d fucked up a nice moment by being a dumbass. “Sorry. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“I’m a jerk but not _that_ kind of jerk, dude.” Gabe brushed his hair off his forehead. “I will get you two coffees to prove it.”

“One venti vanilla latte and a brownie.”

“It’s a deal.”

Gabe kept up a steady stream of talk on the way to the laundromat; nothing significant, just a rolling free-association monologue that Mikey found unexpectedly soothing. He wasn’t expected to participate; he could just walk and listen, shifting the duffel bag to keep his arm from going numb.

“So I was like, I’ve got a degree in philosophy, not photography, that’s my brother.” Gabe stopped and took a breath while Mikey took on the job of pulling the door open without dropping his bag. “And I didn’t have to give back the money.”

“Wow.” Mikey let his bag thump down on one of the tables. “Philosophy? For real?”

“Totally for real.”

“But now you’re in business school.”

“Yes.” Gabe nodded slowly. “That is true. I’m gonna go get the coffee, I’ll be right back.”

Mikey loaded the machines and settled in to wait, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. His brain felt slow, heavy, the way that meant he was probably going to be sad soon, for a while, and that would make Pete worry, so he should try not to let it happen, because if Pete was worried he might be distracted from studying and working, and then everything would get messed up.

There were ways to dodge being sad. Caffeine. Adderall. Alcohol but only if it was mixed with the others, if he just drank a lot then he would get sad _faster_. He was good at this. He’d done this before.

He accepted the venti from Gabe with relief and chugged it, hoping the caffeine would hit his brain hard. The acid would chew up his stomach just as hard, but he’d worry about that later. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Gabe leaned against the machines and grinned at him again. “So, Pete and I talked about maybe doing a movie night on Saturday. He said zombies are your favorite, so I’m gonna look for some obscure zombie shit and we can _critique_. Cool?”

Mikey smiled back, but it felt brittle around the edges. “I’m working Saturday night.”

“How late? We can power nap and do the viewing late.”

Mikey thought for a minute; this was his night with Brian X, escalating bondage, the green night where Pete would be on-call if he needed him. Pete always woke up when his phone rang, so napping until he got home made sense. And Brian had asked him to be there at 8:30, not late at all for Mikey’s gigs. There was a whole lot of night left after that.

“Sure.” He downed the last of his drink, the thick and over-sweet dregs at the bottom, which clung to his tongue and stopped his throat. “That sounds like a plan.”

**

Saturday night, Brian escalated the bondage right past what he knew how to do.

Mikey took the elevator down from Brian’s apartment with a bored-looking woman holding an equally bored-looking Chihuahua, which meant he had to keep his teeth locked down hard on his tongue to keep from screaming, his right hand gripping his left forearm in a desperate effort to keep the arm from moving, and his shoulders hunched to keep his jacket draped over them so it wasn’t so obvious that he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. Getting a t-shirt over a dislocated shoulder was murder. It involved letting the shoulder _move_.

The Chihuahua sneered at him as they got off the elevator, and Mikey silently told the little fucker that only God could judge him, not purse dogs, and God probably wasn’t all that interested right now what with all the real problems going on in the world. He sat down on the bench at the bus stop in front of the building, did some deep breathing until the darkness eased back from the edge of his vision, and got his phone out of his pocket to call Pete.

Brian hadn’t even crossed the line on purpose, which is what made it so stupid; he wasn’t _violent_ or anything, just trying to do stuff he didn’t know how to do, placing the ropes wrong, and then pop went Mikey’s shoulder, panic went Brian, and it was a good fifteen or twenty minutes of talking him down and coaching him through cutting the ropes free before Mikey could get up, make Brian help him into his sweatpants and toss his jacket over his shoulders, and leave. This wasn’t an assault; he was only shaking and dissociating because of pure physical shock; nothing was wrong that some painkillers and a jaunt to urgent care couldn’t fix. He repeated that to himself silently, over and over, while the phone rang and he waited for Pete to pick up.

This was exactly what the green-light appointment system was for. Something had gone wrong and now they would fix it. Pete would help him.

“Hey, Mikey!”

It was Gabe’s voice. The world went gray and fuzzy again for a minute while Mikey’s brain turned that thought around, trying to place it.

“Mikey? You on your way home?”

“Where’s Pete?”

“You okay? You don’t sound good.”

“Where’s _Pete_?”

“He’s talking to his mom. On my phone. It’s okay, dude, it’s okay, he gave me his phone because he said it had to be covered in case you called, that if you called I had to pick up right away, what do you need?”

Mikey’s chest hurt, not as bad as his arm but deep and choking, and his mind was swirling, fast and slow at the same time. He was hurt. Pete was supposed to answer. Pete was supposed to talk him through it, come get him, make everything okay.

Pete hadn’t even picked up the phone.

“Mikey? Where are you? We’ll come get you. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it.”

“Fuck you,” Mikey said, slowly and carefully, the only words he could force past his mouth. He was cold ( _shocky_ , a distant corner of his brain whispered) and he hurt ( _dislocated shoulder, of course you hurt_ ), and he couldn’t think right, couldn’t move right, couldn’t make his body obey him ( _sub-drop, dissociation, shock, stupid stupid stupid_ ).

He dropped the phone into the trash can by the bench, levering himself onto his feet and stumbling up the sidewalk to the cross-street, where he had a vague sense he’d seen cabs earlier. If one was willing to pick him up when he was swaying and stumbling and acting drunk, he’d go to urgent care by himself. He’d take care of himself. Fuck them anyway, if they had each other. Fuck Gabe for being nice to him, tricking him. Fuck Pete for finding someone who would be nice and good and rich and not messy like Mikey. Fuck them both. He could do this alone.

**

Mikey heard Pete’s voice from the waiting room and closed his eyes, hissing slightly in pain as the nurse took the catheter out of his arm. Relief and humiliation ran through him in equal measure; thank god, Pete still came for him, and oh fuck, he acted like an asshole before and would have to apologize.

“That’s my boyfriend,” he said, looking up at the nurse. “You can tell them to let him come back.”

The nurse gave him a stern look and made a note on the chart, then walked away with the tubes of blood she’d taken from his arm. Mikey sighed and settled back, waiting for either Pete to get there or the painkillers to kick in.

Pete got there first, pushing the door open and dropping to his knees in front of Mikey, looking up at him with a carefully blank face and worried eyes.

“I’m okay,” Mikey said. “Sorry.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Nothing. I mean, not like… not bad. Just dislocated my shoulder. It was an accident, he fucked up the rope. Not on purpose.” He swallowed and tried to smile. “You don’t have to kill him.”

“Good. I’ll run his card for double for hurting you, though.”

“It was an accident.”

Pete exhaled slowly through clenched teeth, then leaned forward and rested his head against Mikey’s knee. Mikey’s good hand moved automatically to cradle his skull, fingers rubbing gently against his hair.

“I’m sorry about the phone,” Pete said after a minute. “Mom called and I knew I had to keep the line clear, so I called her back on Gabe’s phone. I thought it would be okay, that keeping the line clear would, like… magic. Keep something bad from happening.”

Mikey licked his lips. “When I’m like that, I need _you_.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t answer. I needed you and you didn’t answer.” He knew he sounded stupid, repeating nonsense and not answering what Pete was saying, but he couldn’t help it. He was still half-foggy in his head, and getting foggier with the painkillers. He just wanted Pete to understand.

“I know, baby.” Pete rubbed his face against Mikey’s knee, then carefully got to his feet and leaned in to kiss him. “It won’t happen again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Pete kissed him again, soft and lingering, and Mikey breathed in and out slowly, coaxing the part of his brain that was still looking for something to submit to to understand that Pete was here and would keep him safe now. It was okay to relax.

“Gabe’s here,” Pete said after a minute, still leaning in close. “He drove so I could call around to the ERs and urgent cares and figure out where you went. If you don’t want to see him, I’ll ask him to leave.”

Mikey knew it was ugly, the flash of smug satisfaction and relief he got out of that. Of course he still came first to Pete. That was how it _worked_. He was so stupid to have worried. So stupid to have gotten so upset. “He must be pretty pissed. I yelled at him.”

“He’s not pissed. He’s worried that you’re hurt.” Pete hesitated a moment, still leaning in close enough that Mikey couldn’t see his face. “He really likes you, you know.”

“Pretty sure he likes you more.”

“Disagree.” Pete brushed his lips against Mikey’s forehead and pulled back so they could look at each other. “But we don’t have to talk about it right now.”

That meant they were going to talk about it later. Mikey nodded and rubbed his good hand on his thigh. “You can ask him to come in. I’ll apologize and stuff. Try to explain, like, how I get when I’m working.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Pete put his hand over Mikey’s. “I can have him come in and sit with you while I go do the paperwork.”

“Yeah.” Mikey nodded and took a breath, turning his hand so they could thread their fingers together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Pete squeezed his hand. “Please don’t scare me like that.”

“I’ll try.”

“Did you throw your phone away?”

Mikey winced. “Yes. It might still be there, though. We can go look for it.”

“Okay.” Pete squeezed again and then stepped away, disappearing into the hall. Mikey kicked his feet slowly and tried to settle into the dull glow of the painkillers. Fuck. It sucked when this happened, when he got upset and did dumb shit and they had to fix it. Pete always forgave him, always came for him, but someday he _wouldn’t_ and then Mikey was going to have to--

“Hey.” Gabe stood awkwardly in the doorway, too tall for the space. “Your shoulder, huh?”

“It’s not so bad.” Mikey shifted his weight and let his gaze drop to the floor. “Sorry about on the phone.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“When I’m working, I get kind of--”

“Pete explained.”

Mikey’s eyes jerked up to Gabe’s face. “He did?”

“Yeah. Well, once I kind of dug through all the cursing and threatening to kill the guy you were with, there as an explanation in there. It’s cool. I get it. You were in, like. An altered state. I’m into those.”

“I needed Pete, and he didn’t answer.”

“I get it.” Gabe took a step into the room and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

The painkillers were definitely responsible for the next part. Mikey didn’t _ask_ those kinds of questions if he could help it. “Pete says you like me.”

Gabe flushed a little and hunched his shoulders. “I do. Yeah.”

“But I think you like him more.”

“I haven’t really been measuring it against each other. It’s kind of… cumulative liking.”

“Oh.” Mikey blinked. “That’s new.”

Gabe’s smile was quick and edged. “Not for me.” He looked around the room and cocked his head at the extra catheter and tube lying on the counter. “They took blood?”

“Yeah. A bunch.”

“For a dislocated shoulder?”

“Oh.” Mikey sighed again. “It’s, um. I don’t bother trying to explain what I do. So I just say it was rough sex with a one-night stand. And they get all, rough sex with multiple partners? And I say yeah because it’s easier. And then they do a bunch of bloodwork for STIs and HIV and stuff and give me condoms and pamphlets. It always happens.”

“But you don’t have multiple partners, right?”

Mikey shrugged. “Multiple clients. But I don’t fuck them.”

“Because that’s illegal?”

“Yes. If I fucked them, I would be engaging in prostitution.” He crossed his eyes to look at the tip of his nose, then looked at Gabe again. “Instead I’m just doing sex work.”

“What’s the difference?”

“What I do is like stripping. I’m doing a thing that might turn you on, might get you all hot and hard and ready to go, but you don’t get to fuck me. It’s an arbitrary distinction. It’s pretty stupid. But that’s the law for you.”

Gabe leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

The atmosphere had shifted; Mikey could feel the extra distance between them, built from him saying the wrong words. The truth, but wrong. “Thanks. Sorry if I grossed you out.”

“You didn’t. I just feel dumb that I never thought about it before.”

“Nobody thinks about it if they don’t have to.” Mikey looked up as the nurse came back in, still frowning and wielding his chart. “Am I good to go?”

“I have to go over the instructions with you for how to take care of yourself.”

“You should’ve done that before you got me high.”

“I’ll take them,” Gabe said, holding up his hand in a little wave. “You can go over it with me.”

The nurse eyed him for a moment. “You are not the boyfriend.”

“I’m a friend,” Gabe said easily, and Mikey realized with a little shock that he meant it. “And I like to help. So talk me through this, please?”

**

Mikey woke up in the morning with Pete’s arm around his waist, holding him tightly in place as the little spoon. Mikey shifted against the mattress and gasped in pain as he pressed on his bad shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Hey.” Pete’s lips grazed against the back of his neck. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Moving hurts.”

“I know.” Pete eased back, sitting up and looking down at him with pensive eyes. “Can you lie down on your back?”

Mikey turned onto his back and reached up with his good hand, tracing Pete’s jaw. “Did you sleep?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Pete kissed his fingers and then took his hand, guiding it up above Mikey’s head and pinning it there. “So.”

Mikey swallowed and focused on Pete’s thumb rubbing against his wrist, holding him down at only one point on his whole body, both of them knowing that was more than enough to keep him still. They knew each other inside out.

“You trust me so much like this,” Pete said. “But you don’t trust me not to leave you.”

“I do. I do. In my heart. But sometimes my head gets in the way.”

“I get that.” Pete pressed a little harder with his thumb. “You saved my life, Mikey. Let me take care of you forever. That’s all I want to do.”

Mikey met his eyes and nodded, hoping everything came through in his eyes. _Yes. Yes. That’s what I want, too._ “Kiss me.”

Pete did, for a long time, until they were both breathless. He let go of Mikey’s wrist, but Mikey kept his arm right where Pete had placed it.

“I have to be on campus all day today,” Pete said finally, resting his forehead against Mikey’s. “But Gabe’s going to come over and hang out with you.”

“He doesn’t have classes?”

“He isn’t going to go to them.”

“Doesn’t he need to?”

“Apparently not. I don’t really understand how MBAs work, but he seems totally cool about not going to class, like, ever.”

“Maybe he’s a wizard.”

“Maybe.” Pete kissed him again, lightly this time, and climbed out of bed. “You’re okay with him hanging out here with you?”

Mikey’s cheeks burned. “Yeah, of course. I’m really sorry about last night, I didn’t mean to freak out like that.”

“You were in your headspace. I know better.” Pete frowned into the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans. “I fucked up.”

“We both fucked up.”

“Your client fucked up.” Pete zipped up and glanced at him. “You’ll need to do some rescheduling.”

“Shit.” Mikey sighed and slumped against the pillows. “That’s going to be a pain.”

“Better than going out with a busted shoulder.” Pete stepped into the bathroom and came back a minute later with a glass of water. “Sit up. Down the hatch.”

Mikey swallows the painkillers and water and watched Pete finish getting ready. “Is Gabe going to stay over tonight?”

Pete shot him a puzzled glance. “I doubt it. Our couch is kinda short for him to sleep on. Why?”

“Maybe you and I could do something. I can thank you for being so nice to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You don’t owe me anything, baby.”

“I know. I know. I’m trying to proposition you. Sexy-like.”

Pete looked at him for a minute and smiled slightly. “You’re very sexy. We’ll see how you feel tonight and how blitzed you are on painkillers.”

“I can suck dick no matter how blitzed I am.”

“That’s actually less seductive than you think it is.” Pete pulled a sweatshirt over his head and turned as a knock came at the front door. “That must be Gabe. Be right back.”

Mikey lay back again and closed his eyes, letting the pills catch up with him and listening to Pete and Gabe’s voices in the entryway. He didn’t try to make out what they were saying, just let the rise and fall of their conversation wash around him until their footsteps came down the hall to the bedroom.

“I gotta get going,” Pete said, leaning down for a kiss. “Gabe brought zombie movies. And comic books.”

“I didn’t know you read comics,” Mikey said, turning to look at Gabe.

“I don’t.” Gabe waved a paper bag at him. “I went into the store and asked the guy to give me the five coolest new ones. You probably already have them.”

“Thanks.” Mikey took the bag and smiled at him, then at Pete, lingering in the doorway. “See you tonight. Have a good day.”

“You guys, too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

When the front door closed, Gabe turned to Mikey and raised an eyebrow. “Does that narrow it down at all? Things he wouldn’t do?”

“When we first met, no. Now? Yeah.” Mikey emptied the bag out on the bed and sorted through the titles. “Okay, I’ve got two of these, but the other three are new to me. Awesome.”

“All the credit goes to the guy at the store. I know nothing.” Gabe pulled Pete’s desk chair up to the bed and stretched his legs out across the mattress. “Show me how to read these things. Give me Comics 101.”

**

Comics 101 through 103 was followed by Mikey napping on the couch while Gabe watched renovation shows on TV, and then lunch. Gabe made sandwiches, like it was no big deal. Mikey watched him closely, wondering why he was being so nice. Was there a catch, or was Mikey being paranoid? That question had followed him around for most of his life and didn’t show any signs of being answered today.

“Can I ask you something?” Gabe said when they’d finished eating and he’d taken the plates to the sink.

“Sure.” Mikey drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, letting his eyes settle on the TV in case the question turned out to be something awkward or uncomfortable. Gabe was being nice to him, and by extension to Pete; Mikey should be compliant if he possibly could.

“How did you get started doing it?”

“Subbing professionally?”

“Yeah.”

Mikey rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ceiling. “Well. Um. I was into the kink scene. And I got fired from my job. I needed money. I met a guy at one of the clubs who made a decent living doing it, who was moving out of town, so he didn’t mind setting me up in business since I wouldn’t be his competition. He showed me how to advertise, how to find people who wouldn’t murder me, how to set up safeties and make sure I got paid. Then he gave my number to his clients and left town.”

“And you’ve been doing it ever since?”

“Pretty much.” Mikey bit at his thumbnail for a moment, wondering how much Gabe wanted or needed to know, how much would even make sense. “I worked at Starbucks for a while when we first moved here, but I’m better at sex work.”

“Better how?”

“Better, like… I can _do_ it. Working a regular job, I get…” Mikey waved his hand helplessly. “I don’t know how to describe it. I can’t keep a fucking job. I miss shifts, I get distracted, I fuck up. I get really sad sometimes and I just stop getting out of bed. That doesn’t work when you’ve got set hours, you know? It doesn’t fly with bosses. Subbing, I’m working for myself, so I can kind of get around it. Mostly.”

“Wow.” Gabe was quiet for a moment. “And Pete’s always been cool with it?”

“He only cares that I’m happy and safe.”

“And that’s why he’s your backup.”

“Yeah.” Mikey bit his thumbnail again. “One time a client broke my safeword and Pete smashed his car up with a baseball bat. He’s really serious about me being safe. Like. Really.”

“Holy shit. That’s… impressively loyal and also very scary.”

Mikey remembered Pete’s face, red and sweaty, dark shadows under his eyes, mouth twisted up as he swung the bat. “You don’t even know.”

“He has a temper, huh?”

“Not as bad now as it used to be.” Mikey bit down harder, breaking the nail, wondering how much he could say without betraying stuff that was only Pete’s to talk about. “He saw, like, some doctors. They helped him figure stuff out. Manage it.” That was vague enough.

“That’s cool.” Gabe was quiet for a few minutes, then reached for the remote. “Zombie movies, huh? Let’s do that.”

Mikey couldn’t tell if he’d passed or failed a test. It made his stomach knot up tight enough to hurt, and it wasn’t time for more painkillers yet. Fuck. “Sure. That sounds awesome.”

**

When Pete got home Mikey took his painkillers and retreated to the bedroom, leaving them with take-out menus and the remote while he curled up in bed with the tablet and rescheduled his upcoming clients. Brian X was costing him a lot of money.

It was weird that he didn’t have to _panic_ about that, though; Pete had student insurance, and his parents insisted on paying half the rent on their apartment out of either guilt or altruism, Mikey couldn’t figure out which. There were actual margins of error in how much money Mikey needed to make per month. There was even a margin before he would have to cancel his own insurance. It felt strange, like he was cheating somehow. Cheating at living the way they’d both gotten used to.

Pete tapped on the door and leaned in side. “We ordered pizza. It’ll be here in twenty. You doing okay?”

Mikey nodded, then shook his head. “Need a kiss.”

“I can do that.” Pete crossed the room, cupped Mikey’s face in his hands, and kissed him gently. “I was thinking about what you said this morning. About us getting up to something tonight.”

“Yeah?” Mikey tried for an innocent face and missed by a mile, if Pete’s grin was any indication.

“Yeah.” Pete tapped him gently on the nose. “I think we can definitely do that.”

“You’ve got an idea?”

“I’ve got a really good idea. I think you’ll like it lots.”

“You’re usually right about what I like.” Mikey rested his head against Pete’s chest for a moment, then offered Pete his good hand to help him up off the bed. “Pizza, huh?”

“Tons of pizza.”

“And counting down til Gabe goes home?”

Pete grinned wider. “That’s right.”

**

Gabe left after dinner, and Pete stood at the foot of the couch for a few minutes, watching Mikey with thoughtful eyes.

“Clean up the plates and leftovers,” he said finally. “Take your time so you don’t hurt your arm. There’s no rush. Come to the bedroom when you’re finished.”

Mikey nodded and did as he was told, gathering things up one-handed and taking them to the kitchen. Pete vanished down the hall to the bedroom, and Mikey could hear him opening and closing drawers and the closet, humming to himself.

Mikey’s impulse was to crawl to the bedroom, but without the use of his arm, he had to walk instead, keeping his head carefully bowed and his eyes lowered. When he got to the bedroom, he lowered himself carefully to his knees, keeping his gaze on the carpet at Pete’s feet.

“There you are.” Pete laid a few items out on the dresser; Mikey could hear it but didn’t allow himself to look and identify them. He could guess pretty well; there were only a handful of things Pete would be willing to play with while Mikey was hurt. They would definitely still be a good time. Pete was so good at knowing what Mikey liked.

“Do you want to be a good boy for me, Mikey?”

Mikey nodded, licking his lips quickly. “Yes. Yes, sir. I want to be so good for you.”

“Good.” Pete crossed over to him and cupped Mikey’s chin with his fingertips, tipping it up. “Open, please.” Mikey obediently opened his mouth, and Pete slipped a smooth, rounded leather gag into it, bringing the straps around Mikey’s head and buckling them in the back, careful not to catch or pull his hair. It was just tight enough to make the corners of his lips stretch and ache, but not enough to split the skin. Pete was good at this.

“Good,” Pete murmured again, reaching behind him for something else. Mikey waited, clenching and relaxing his teeth against the gag. When Pete produced a blindfold and tied it in place to cover Mikey’s eyes, it was a relief. He could lean into the darkness, let it take over and trust himself to Pete completely.

“Now be still,” Pete said, his voice soft, conversational. “Just stay still, right here.”

Mikey nodded, bringing his good hand around to the small of his back, assuming as close to a proper submissive pose as he could.

“Good.” Pete’s hand brushes over Mikey’s hair in a brief caress. “Now just like that. If you move, I’m going to be disappointed.”

Mikey breathed slowly, drawing the air in as deep as he could take it, holding it for a heartbeat, and letting it go. Stillness was something Pete asked him for often, and it was a good mental challenge that didn’t put as much strain on his body as other things he maybe enjoyed more. Holding a basic pose like this was something he could do for hours once he found the right balance in his head, and if he held it as long as Pete wanted, he would be rewarded.

He could hear Pete moving quietly around the apartment, from one room to the next, but frequently looping back down the hall to look in and make sure Mikey was still okay. That was both a comfort and part of the test; if he wanted to, he _could_ move while Pete was out of the room, but what if he messed up and Pete caught him at it? Or came back and could _tell_ Mikey had moved, and told him how disappointed he was? No, it was important to hold perfectly still and just listen to Pete’s footsteps, listen and settle into himself, deeper and deeper, until his mind was floating on a distant warm plane and keeping his body still was natural.

Finally Pete’s footsteps came down the hall to the bedroom again and crossed over to him, until Mikey could feel the warmth of his body standing close in front of him. Pete’s hand brushed against Mikey’s cheek and jaw. “Good boy,” he said in a low voice.

Mikey hummed softly and pushed his face against Pete’s hand, working his teeth against the gag. He wanted Pete’s hands on him, everywhere, wanted Pete to claim him. Own him. Hurt him, ideally, but he knew Pete wouldn’t, not right now.

Pete curled his fingers in Mikey’s hair and tugged gently, then reached back and unbuckled the gag. “Spit it out,” he said when Mikey clenched his teeth to hold it. “We’re done for now.”

“Want more,” Mikey said, trying to press his cheek against Pete’s hand again. “I want you.”

“You’ve got me, baby.” Pete slipped two fingers into Mikey’s mouth and let him suck at them for a moment. The blindfold was still in place, keeping Mikey safe in the dark, and he hoped Pete would let him keep that for at least a while longer. Being surrendered and peaceful and safe was so much easier than having to live in the world. Having to try. He wanted to stay here.

Pete pushed his fingers deeper and Mikey gagged, a shudder running through his body. “Good,” Pete murmured. “So good. Fuck, baby. I love you.”

Mikey licked at Pete’s fingers and then sucked them again, hoping it would earn him more. Pete’s free hand caressed his face again, and then his fingers withdrew, leaving Mikey mouthing at the air, empty.

“Bed,” Pete said. “Come on, Mikes. Let’s go to bed.”

“I could suck you,” Mikey said hopefully. “I could… anything, sir. Anything.”

“I know.” Pete caught his arm and drew him to his feet. “What I want is for you to come to bed.”

“More in the morning?”

“Pushing it,” Pete said quietly, and Mikey bit his tongue, bowing his head while Pete guided him to the bed.

“We’ll figure out the morning in the morning.” Pete kissed him and pulled the covers over them both. “Right now, just sleep, Mikey. Go to sleep for me.”

Since Mikey had promised to do anything, he did as he was told, safe and hidden behind the blindfold.

**

Gabe stayed at the apartment with him for the next few days whenever Pete was on campus. Mikey raised the question of why _he_ never went to class, but Gabe always brushed it away, changing the subject to movies or food or how Mikey was feeling.

Or music; they talked about music a lot. Gabe had wide-ranging tastes, which overlapped with Mikey’s enough for them to have a good conversation but diverged enough that they didn’t get bored.

On the third day he was there, when Mikey was getting really twitchy from being shut up in the apartment, Gabe took him out.

“Record store, shoe store, lunch,” he declared as they left the building. “The most important things in life.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Mikey adjusted his sling and tilted his head back, enjoying the sun on his face and the fresh breeze, until he realized that it was carrying the scent of two or three dumpsters. Safely back in reality, he followed Gabe down the sidewalk to the bus stop.

The record store yielded up a little vinyl, the shoe store nothing at all, but lunch at a vegan diner was an uncomplicated triumph. “It’s all kosher, too,” Gabe said proudly. “This is my favorite place.”

“In the world?” Mikey asked, driven a little whimsical by hummus.

Gabe tilted his head and really seemed to think about it. “Not quite. But in the top five.” He ran his finger through Mikey’s hummus and licked it clean. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“When am I going to get to kiss you?”

Mikey blinked and put down the pita triangle that was halfway to his mouth. “Kiss me?”

“I told you I like you.” Gabe’s voice was patient, but his hands betrayed his nerves, fingers tapping against the table in a beat that Mikey knew well. “And I like Pete. I like both of you. I kinda want to date both of you. With kissing.”

“Does Pete know that?”

“I think so.” Gabe shrugged, a jerky movement that matched the anxiety of his hands. “I told him, anyway. But I guess he didn’t tell you. So maybe not.”

Mikey took his phone out of his pocket and sent Pete a text. _did u know gabe wants to date us?_ He stared at the screen and waited, reaching blindly across the table to cover Gabe’s hand with his. “Stop tapping.”

“I’m trying to psych myself up for being completely humiliated.”

“It hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m not feeling optimistic.”

Mikey hooked his fingers clumsily with Gabe’s as Pete’s reply came through. _was going to bring that up when u felt better_

_so you want to?_

_if u do_

Mikey frowned at his phone. That was such typical Pete. Passing the buck. Refusing to make all the decisions like a good dom. 

He let himself enjoy the feeling of righteous if incorrect indignation for a moment, then looked at Gabe. “He says it’s up to me.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

“I don’t know anything about dating two people.”

“It’s just like dating one, except you get laid twice as often.”

Mikey blinked. “Are you sure?”

“No, totally not, but that’s how the math works out.” Gabe was blushing. He turned his hand in Mikey’s and squeezed it. “So when do I get to kiss you?”

Mikey looked down at their hands for a moment. “Probably tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?”

“I’ve gotta talk to Pete first.”

“That’s fair.” Gabe fell quiet for a moment. “Now I’ve made the rest of the day awkward, huh?”

“It’s okay.” Mikey shrugged. “I’m used to stuff going awkward around me. I think I attract it.”

Gabe cocked his head. “Why are you so down on yourself so much?”

That was a strange thing to say. “Life experience, I guess?”

“I haven’t seen any evidence of you being anything but awesome.” 

Mikey shook his head. “I fuck up a lot. All the time. I told you.”

“You said you get really sad, or distracted, or stuff like that.” Gabe was watching him closely, his eyes dark and sharp. It made Mikey nervous, being watched like that, like Gabe could see _into_ him. “Have you ever seen anybody about that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“A doctor. Like a therapist or a psychiatrist.”

“No.” Mikey balled up his napkin. “No, I don’t need anything like that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Mikey dropped the napkin, then picked it up again, flattening it out and tearing it in two. “I get where you’re coming from. But that’s not me. I don’t need that.”

“Pete told me he sees a doctor like that.”

Mikey froze, the napkin twisted in his fingers. “He told you?”

“Yeah.” Mikey couldn’t bring himself to look at Gabe and see if his eyes were still sharp, but his voice was low and gentle. Like he was trying _not_ to be scary. “We talked for a while after you fell asleep the other night.”

“About stuff like _that_?”

“And other things.” Gabe reached over and touched Mikey’s hand, carefully, with just one finger. “I’m gonna drop it now because I can tell I’m freaking you out. But just, like… something to think about, okay?”

“Yeah.” Mikey cleared his throat. He couldn’t draw his hand away from Gabe’s; he didn’t know why, he just _couldn’t_. “Sure. Okay.”

“You probably don’t want to date me now, huh? I’m pushy and I ask too many questions.”

“You’ve always been pushy.” Mikey stared down at their hands. “That’s not new.”

“I want to kiss you, Mikey. I want to kiss Pete, too, but I want to do different things with each of you. Do you get what I mean?” Mikey nodded just a little bit. “I think I want to do stuff with you that’s like… stuff you’re into. I’ve never tried it before. But I’ve been doing some reading. Trying to educate myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to feel like you have to change for me.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Gabe tapped his finger against Mikey’s knuckles, then drew his hand away. “And I like that. It’s… it’s exciting. I really want to kiss you.”

Mikey swallowed hard. This was too much, just… too much, too many ideas and feelings whirling in his head. His throat was tight, like he was choking back a scream. His chest hurt. His shoulder hurt.

“I need to go home,” he said, getting to his feet, pushing his chair back blindly. “I’ll… one of us will call you, okay? After we talk. Later. Tonight, probably. We’ll talk.”

Gabe stood up, too, his face red. “Okay. Shit, Mikey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine.” Mikey shook his head and scrambled for the door, waving his good hand behind him to hold Gabe off. If Gabe followed him, he might actually lose his mind. “Don’t worry. It’s not you. Just… just trust me. It’s me. It’s totally me.”

**

Pete came home about an hour after Mikey got back, with a stack of library books under his arm and a worried look. Mikey was lying on the couch, peering out from under a blanket, and winced when he saw him. “You’re supposed to be working.”

“Gabe texted me that you were upset. What happened?”

“You didn’t have to come home. You have work to do. I’m fine.” He was mostly fine. He was cold and his brain was screaming loud and he was sick with worry but couldn’t pin it on anything, but… mostly fine. Close enough.

Pete dropped the books on the table and sat down on the arm of the couch, guiding Mikey’s head against his thigh. “Okay, that’s bullshit, now tell me what happened.”

Mikey closed his eyes tightly. “Gabe said he wants to date us. Both of us. You and me.”

“And you don’t want that?” Pete’s voice was carefully neutral, his fingers combing slowly through Mikey’s hair. “You’re not interested?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. He said he _likes_ me.”

“You didn’t know he liked you?”

“I knew he liked _you_. I thought he was just nice to me because I’m part of you.”

“You are part of me.” Pete brushed his fingers against Mikey’s cheek. “That’s right.”

Mikey pressed closer. “I always knew he liked you. Wanted you. From the beginning.”

“And I always knew he liked and wanted you.” Pete shifted to settle Mikey’s head more solidly against his thigh. “But you’re not interested, is that what I’m hearing?”

“I don’t know.”

“Talk it out,” Pete said coaxingly “I’m here. Talk it out with me.”

Mikey hated this, hated feeling like he was choking on his words, like his throat was tight and dry behind them. “I like him when I’m with him. So much. When he’s around, it’s… it’s really great. But when I’m alone. I get worried.”

“Worried about what, baby?”

Mikey wanted to laugh, but the sound couldn’t get past his throat. “Everything.”

“Okay.” Pete smoothed his hair again. “What specifically do you worry about Gabe, though?”

“That it’s a trap. That it’s a lie. That he’s going to take you away.”

“Nobody will ever take me away.”

“It’s not logic. It’s worrying. You know?”

“Yeah.” Pete sighed. “Yeah, I do know, Mikes. I do.”

“I know it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not correct, but it’s not stupid.” Pete sat quietly for a minute, caressing him slowly. Mikey tried to lose himself in it, in the warmth of Pete, in his touch, tried to dodge the sick twist of his stomach and the screaming in his head and replace them with Pete’s heartbeat.

“Okay,” Pete said finally. “When you’re with him, you like him? When he’s around.”

“Yes.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

Mikey huffed a soft breath. “Um. Yes. You’ve seen him”

“I have.” Pete smiled down at him. “Maybe if we tried this, this whole thing he would be around more. And then you would be alone less. That’s math.”

“I don’t think that’s math.”

“It makes sense, though, right?” Pete traced his jaw. “Alone less means worrying less. Right?”

“Maybe?” Mikey was doubtful, but god, he _wanted_ to believe it, wanted it to be true. So much.

“And we can promise each other that if either of us ever decides we don’t want it anymore, we can tell the other one and end it. Okay?”

“Gabe can end it too, if he doesn’t want it anymore. Right?”

“Of course.” Pete cupped his chin and looked at him firmly. “Nobody’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, Mikey.”

“Only if they pay for it.”

“Not funny.” Pete leaned in and kissed him, slowly and gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Do you want to try this?”

Mikey swallowed hard. “I do. Yes. But it’s scary.”

“I know.”

“Kiss me again.”

Pete did, and rested his forehead against Mikey’s, breathing in time with him. “I love you so, so much.”

This was cutting through the fear, being close like this, being _with_ Pete. “You should call him right now. Have him come over.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want to make it real before I have time to get scared again. Or think too much.”

“Okay.” Pete kissed him again, harder this time. “I think it’s an absolutely great idea to do this without thinking.”

**

By the time Gabe got there, Mikey was in a panic again. He retreated to the bedroom while Pete got the door, pulling the blanket over his head and listening to the rise and fall of their voices through the walls. Pete wasn’t going to leave him; he knew that, he mostly believed it, but he couldn’t shake the fear that something _else_ would go wrong, something awful, something completely unexpected and inevitable.

“Mikey.”

He looked out from under the blanket and saw Pete and Gabe standing in the bedroom doorway. “Oh.”

“You thought we’d just hang in the living room?” Pete raised an eyebrow at him, then came over to the bed and pulled the blanket back. “Need you to be part of this or it isn’t a threesome, baby.”

“We’re really doing this.” Mikey looked back and forth between them. “Really for real.”

“If you still want to,” Gabe said. “Do you?”

Pete took Mikey’s hand and squeezed lightly, and Mikey remembered to breathe deep, hold the air for a beat, let it go. “I do. Yes. I think so. I… somebody kiss me and make me shut up.”

“I think that’s my cue.” Pete tugged his hand and leaned in to kiss him, his teeth grazing Mikey’s lips just hard enough to catch his attention and give him something to zero in on. Just a tiny spark of pain, but enough to give him a rope out of his head and back into the now. He had a body, and it was about to get some attention. He could hold on to that.

“Gabe,” Pete said softly. “Come kiss him.”

Gabe walked over to the bed and sat down next to Mikey, putting his hand lightly on Mikey’s knee. “Is it cool if I do that?”

“Yes. It’s cool. I just need to stop _thinking_. Pete knows.” Mikey leaned against Pete for a moment, then turned his face toward Gabe. “Follow Pete’s lead.”

“I know my way around Mikey.” Pete grinned and sat down on Mikey’s other side, slipping his arm around Mikey’s waist. “That was a pun. You guys aren’t laughing. Just kiss him, Gabe.”

“Is he always this bossy?” Gabe asked, leaning in close.

“Yeah.” Mikey nodded, closing his eyes. “Thank God, or we’d never get anywhere, probably.”

“All right.” Gabe kissed him, and it was--good, it was really good. Warm and slow and careful, and just… nice. The way he hoped it would be in the scattered minutes he let himself think about it between fits of worrying about what would happen next. If he could just stay in the moment and let himself feel it, this could be _so_ nice.

Pete’s arm tightened around his waist, and then Pete was nuzzling at his neck and pressing a light kiss to the curve of his jaw. “You two are pretty together, Mikes.”

“You should kiss him, too,” Mikey mumbled. “Let me see.”

“I think that can happen.” Pete kissed him again, then leaned across him toward Gabe. “Come on, Saporta. Make it good for him.”

It was good. They were both still touching him; he was part of this, connected. And they were so fucking beautiful kissing each other. And he was part of that, a little bit, through their touch; he was a little bit beautiful, too.

“Mikes,” Pete said after a long moment, when he finally pulled back from Gabe, “lie back on the bed.”

Mikey scooted back on the mattress and did as he was told. “Are you going to double-team me?”

“Not on the first date,” Gabe said dryly. “But lying down is a better angle for all three of us.”

“You’re really experienced at this, huh?” Pete was grinning. “Is there a playbook?”

“Let me have the lead for a few minutes.” Gabe slid his hand up under Mikey’s shirt, smiling down at him when he shivered. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Mikey licked his lips and shifted toward Gabe, making more room for Pete to lie down beside him. “Definitely keep touching me. It’s good.”

“It grounds him.” Pete kissed Mikey’s neck again, then reached across him to catch the collar of Gabe’s shirt and draw him in. “Touch him lots. Everywhere.”

“Touch Pete, too,” Mikey said, curling his fingers into the waistband of Pete’s jeans. “There’s a spot under his ribs on the left where if you touch that, he’ll squeak and moan. It’s awesome.”

“No fair sharing secrets!” Pete shook his head and bit Mikey’s collarbone. “Mean.”

“I didn’t tell him about the other places.” Mikey closed his eyes tightly. “Do that again.”

Pete bit him again, a little harder, then crawled halfway across him to get to Gabe. Mikey kept his eyes closed, letting Pete’s weight pin him to the mattress, holding him still, which was probably exactly what Pete intended. Pete knew him so well. Knew how to get him out of his head and into his body, into the heat of things. Pete could keep him here.

Something gently nudged Mikey’s legs apart, and after a moment of assessing body parts he realized it was Gabe’s thigh, settled warm and firm between his own. Gabe wasn’t rubbing or grinding, he was just… oh. Pressing down. Keeping Mikey there, keeping contact. Just like Pete.

“You’re a fast learner,” Mikey whispered, throwing the words out into the moment to see if they would know.

Gabe laughed, low and warm, and kissed him on the mouth. His dumb little test had worked.

This was so much better than being afraid.

**

“Are you nervous?” Gabe asked, bumping his shoulder against Mikey’s as they walked up the sidewalk.

“No.” Mikey bumped him back. “I’m a professional.”

“But this is getting back on the horse after a long break.”

Mikey shrugged. “She’s a regular. I trust her.”

“What does she like?” Gabe squinted at the numbers on the buildings and kept walking. “I mean, what is she going to have you do?”

“Usually she does really elaborate bondage setups and verbal humiliation.”

“She ties you up and talks shit to you?”

“Yeah. But no today.” Mikey nodded at the building on the corner. “It’s that one. But no, she said she didn’t want to risk my shoulder right off the bat, so today we’re doing blindfolds and wax and ice and she’ll probably threaten me with a razor a little.”

Gabe frowned. “Just threatening? Not using it?”

“Yes.” Mikey made a face at him. “Safety rules. No fluid exchange with the clients.”

“Is that Pete’s rule or yours?”

“We agreed on it.” Mikey stopped outside the client’s building. “I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Yeah, I’ll wait at the coffee shop over there.” Gabe caught his arm and rubbed his thumb lightly over the curve of Mikey’s elbow. “No fluid exchange with the _clients_. So Pete could play razor games with you?”

“He doesn’t like it. It stresses him out.” Mikey watched him for a moment. Gabe’s face was scrunched up, his eyes unfocused. “What’s wrong?”

“So Pete doesn’t, but somebody who wasn’t your client but was with you, they could.”

Mikey blinked. “Are you asking if you can?”

“We shouldn’t talk about this right now.”

“I didn’t even know you were interested in--”

“Not now.” Gabe released his arm and stepped back. “Later. You need to focus right now, and we can talk about it later. Deal?”

Mikey glanced at the doorway, then at Gabe. Time was passing, and Jessica hated it when he was late. He could put this on pause until after his work was over. Lock it out of his head until she was done with him. She was so good, there wouldn’t be any room for it in his head until then anyway.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way down.”

“And I’ll meet you right here with a cab.” Gabe hesitated. “Kiss?”

Mikey blushed despite himself. “Yeah.” He moved in close and kissed Gabe, taking an extra second to breathe in the scent of his shampoo and aftershave. It would take Mikey a whole bucket of mousse to get his hair as high as Gabe’s, but Gabe could do it all naturally. Mikey wanted to play with it.

No time now, though. He stepped back and smiled at Gabe again. “Okay.”

Gabe nodded and walked away, and Mikey went inside, mentally rummaging around to find the place where everything was quiet and still and he could be good for Jessica. It was right there waiting for him, like he knew it would be, no matter how long he had to wait.

**

Gabe met him at the bottom of the stairs, putting his arm around Mikey’s waist and guiding him to the cab. “How did it go?”

“So good.” Mikey leaned on him and sighed, then gasped as Gabe’s arm pressed against one of the places the wax had burned him. “Oh. Careful.”

“Sorry.” Gabe settled him in the seat and nodded to the driver. “All set. Thanks.”

Mikey giggled and rested his head on Gabe’s shoulder. “How much did you give him to not ask questions?”

“Ten.”

“Mm.” Mikey sighed and closed his eyes. “She’s _so_ good.”

“I’m very glad. And her credit card works?”

“Every time.” Mikey rubbed his cheek against Gabe’s arm, then made himself sit up and blink. “Are we going home?”

“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?”

Mikey glanced at him. “You’re laughing at me.”

“A little bit.” Gabe smiled and tapped his fingers against Mikey’s thigh. “What do you want?”

“Pancakes. Or waffles. Something like that.”

“You think you can be cool if I take you to a diner?”

“Of course.” Mikey nodded solemnly, then groaned again as the cab hit a bump and another jolt of pain went through his skin. “God.”

“I guess they’ve seen everything at diners anyway.” Gabe leaned forward and asked the driver to reroute them, and Mikey hummed to himself, enjoying the quiet in his head and the feeling of Gabe’s hand on his thigh, warm and solid and just for him right now.

The pancakes helped bring him back to himself, and by the time he’d finished one of them and half of his water, he’d regretfully let go of most of his headspace. He looked around the diner, frowning a little. “Where’s our waitress?”

“In the back. Why?”

“I don’t have any coffee.”

Gabe laughed. “Of course that’s what you’re worried about. It’s eleven at night, Mikey.”

“I don’t care. It’s not a diner breakfast without coffee.”

“Okay. Okay.” Gabe stretched his leg under the table and hooked his ankle with Mikey’s. “We’ll get you coffee.”

Mikey looked at him for a minute. “Why don’t you ever go to class?”

“You’re just free-associating all over the place, aren’t you?”

“Are you a spy? Is being a grad student just your cover story?”

“I’m not a spy.”

“Are you a superhero?”

“You’re incredible.” Gabe shook his head and took a bite of his own waffles. “All of my classes this semester are graded entirely on final projects. I based all of my projects on my dad’s medical office in Jersey. I did all of them in the first two weeks of the semester. I just have to roll in on the deadline, turn them in, and collect my 4.0.”

Mikey stared at him. “You’re an evil genius.”

“No, I just knew what I was doing when I went in for an MBA.” Gabe shrugged. “It doesn’t work every semester. I got lucky this time.”

“Don’t tell Pete. He’ll never forgive you.”

“Oh, we’ve talked about it. He’s jealous but he gets it.” Gabe caught the waitress’ eye and a few minutes later Mikey had coffee. He wanted to curl around the cup and purr, but Gabe had told him to be cool so instead he just closed his eyes and breathed in the wonderful steam. Beautiful coffee. Beautiful Gabe.

“You’re so high,” Gabe chuckled. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Endorphins. They’re great.” Mikey rested his cheek in his hand. “I forgot you were from New Jersey.”

“Springfield.”

“We probably were at the same shows, sometimes. The same shitty diners. If you were in the kink scene, we would’ve definitely met.”

“And I would’ve ended up fighting Pete for you, because I wasn’t ready to try something like this yet.”

“You would’ve fought me for Pete, not him for me.”

“I would’ve been very confused and had no idea how to sort out my feelings.”

Mikey snorted. “I know all about _that_.”

“Yeah?” Gabe was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “If I do a topic segue that might totally bring down the mood, will you be able to handle it?”

Fuck. Always, something like this. He clutched at his coffee cup, feeling the worry and fear starting to stir under the heavy blanket of endorphins. It had been going _so_ well. “Well, you kind of have to do it, now.”

“I guess so. Sorry.” Gabe sighed and rubbed his face, hiding his eyes. “Pete said something, back when you got hurt. That night. He said something about you saving his life.”

Mikey froze, his coffee cup nearly slipping from his fingers. “He told you about that?”

“Well, no. Not totally. He mentioned it as part of all the ranting while we were looking for you, but he didn’t explain it. I was kind of hoping maybe you could.”

“Oh.” Mikey set the cup down carefully. “You want, like. Our backstory?”

“Pretty much.” Gabe smiled slightly. “Is that too pushy?”

“I don’t know.” It was Mikey’s turn to rub his face, hiding his eyes behind his hands, trying to calm his pulse and pull the bits and pieces of what was needed together from his evasive mind. “I wasn’t expecting it, but…”

“So it’s not a funny story.”

“No, not really.”

Gabe was watching him closely. “And not, like, a heroic story. You didn’t pull him from in front of a train or something.”

“No.” Mikey picked at the edge of the table. “He was sick. We didn’t have insurance. He needed to go back to his doctor and get his medication so he would be better. So I got the money.”

“How did you do that?”

Mikey smirked, not meeting his eyes. “How do you think?”

“Oh.” Gabe was quiet, and Mikey could just imagine his face, imagine what he was thinking. How fast he could get out of the room. “But you said you don’t do that.”

“I don’t do that _now_. Here. But I did it then because we needed the money.”

“Pete needed it.”

Mikey nodded and curled his fists in his lap. “I would do anything for him. A lot worse than that. I mean, that wasn’t even… it wasn’t that big a deal, except that he wouldn’t have wanted me to do it. That was the only part that felt wrong. Sex is sex, it doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to. All that that meant to me was that Pete would be okay.”

“You know he would do the same for you.” Gabe’s voice was careful, controlled. “Anything you needed, he would get it for you. No matter what.”

“I would never ask him to.” Mikey felt helpless; he could never explain this, not if he had years to try. "I don't matter. He matters."

“He wouldn't agree." Gabe tapped his fingers on the table. "Did he ask you to get the money for the doctor?”

Mikey frowned. “No. He won’t _ask_. I just knew he needed it.”

“That’s my point.”

Mikey shook his head, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his throat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do, you just don’t want to talk about it.” Gabe reached out and brushed his fingers against Mikey’s cheek. “Which is okay. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Mikey tried for a smile. “Yeah, if you’re gonna make me do things I don’t want to do, you have to pay for it.”

Gabe didn’t laugh, and Mikey couldn’t make the smile stick. They sat staring at each other for a moment, Gabe’s eyes narrowed, until Mikey looked away.

“Let’s get you back,” Gabe said finally. “It’s late. Pete’s probably wondering where we are.”

“He should be asleep.”

Gabe gave him an odd look. “He doesn’t really sleep when you’re not there.”

“Of course he does.”

Gabe shook his head and put cash on the table, then held the door open for Mikey to walk outside. “No,” he said when they were on the sidewalk. “He really doesn’t. Watch close when you get home.”

**

Gabe was so good at finding the places that hurt and _pushing_ on them. If they were physical places, Mikey would have loved it. Craved it.

The emotional ones, though… he didn’t know what to _do_ with it. He didn’t know how to feel. He couldn’t need that, not now. Not after so many years of getting better at building his walls and relying on them.

Pete might need him at any time. He had to be ready. If he was busy with his own weaknesses, his own shit, he wouldn’t be ready. Therefore. None of that.

Pete _mattered_. Mikey had to be ready for him.

If Gabe couldn’t understand that and stop pushing, they were going to have a problem.

But Gabe pushing felt like Gabe _caring_ , felt good in a scary way, felt…

He didn’t know what to do.

He should be used to that by now, but he wasn’t, not at all.

**

“You can come with me if you want to,” Pete said.

Mikey shook his head, reminding himself to stay calm. “I have clients.”

“I’ll help you reschedule if you want to come with me.”

“No. I’ll stay here.” Mikey forced a smile. “It’ll be fine.”

Pete was watching him closely, carefully. “Gabe will be here.”

“I know. I know. That’ll help a lot.” Mikey meant that part. Having Gabe around would be a _lot_ better than the times Pete had gone off for a week with his family and left Mikey completely alone. Being with Gabe wasn’t the same as being with Pete, but at least it was someone who cared about him, who wouldn’t let him disappear.

“It’s just a week. Not even a week. Six days.” Pete caught Mikey’s wrists in his hand and squeezed gently. “And I’ll text you every day and call you every night.”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to be thinking about me.”

“I will be thinking about you. All the time. No matter what.” Pete kissed him. “My cab’s going to be here in an hour. What should we do?”

Mikey had to laugh. “You know what we should do.”

“Maybe I wanna hear you say it.” Pete grinned and walked him backward down the hall to the bedroom, rubbing Mikey’s wrists in promise, and it was enough, for right then. It was okay.

Gabe showed up that evening, with pizza and movies, and didn’t seem to mind at all when Mikey climbed into his lap like a kitten. He didn’t mind when Mikey curled up against his side all night. He didn’t mind when Mikey barely let him out of his sight all day, except to use the bathroom.

When they were heating up the pizza leftovers, though, apparently something flipped a switch.

“Mikey,” Gabe said. “You’ve gotta let me breathe.”

“Sorry.”

“You miss Pete?” Gabe looked at him for a moment, something lost in his eyes. “Me being here isn’t helping at all?”

“It’s helping so much. You have no idea. If you weren’t here I’d just be…” Mikey waved his hands. “Hiding in bed, probably. Or watching marathons of murder shows on TV.”

“Would watching murder shows help?”

“No.” Mikey sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “I just can’t make my head shut up.”

There was a long silence, and when he took his hands away and looked up, Gabe’s face was intent, like he’d made a decision.

“You and Pete have cuffs, right?”

Mikey blinked. “Well, yeah. Why?”

“Go get them.”

“What?”

“No.” Gabe put his hand up. “Let me change that. Go to the bedroom. Undress as much as you’re comfortable. _Then_ get the cuffs and bring them here to me.”

Mikey swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. “You really want to do this?”

“Mikey, did I just give you an instruction or not?”

If Mikey hadn’t been looking at him, he would’ve been upset by that, offended; how dare Gabe presume to order him around? They’d never talked about that .Never negotiated. And Gabe didn’t even know what he was _doing_. He’d never done it before.

But he was looking, and he saw the uncertainty in Gabe’s eyes. Something clicked in his head, some piece of everything he knew about Gabe and everything he’d learned from his work and from being with Pete. If he pushed back even a little, Gabe would apologize and back down. He was watching Mikey’s reaction as closely as Mikey was watching him.

And according to the little click in Mikey’s head, that meant he could trust him. Gabe was going to be watching close, and he would take care of Mikey as much as he possibly could.

This was okay.

“My safeword is Nightwing,” he said. “Okay?”

Gabe nodded. “Okay.”

Mikey turned and hurried down the hall, tugging his t-shirt off over his head. He took his jeans off in the bedroom, but left his boxers on; his level of comfort would have been fine with being naked, but he had a feeling that _Gabe_ would feel better if there was still a line left, some shred of formality. They could go all the way later, when Pete was around to coach Gabe through it.

God, just thinking about that sent a hot jolt through Mikey’s belly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so _sure_ about something that wasn’t entirely about Pete.

He came back with the cuffs and handed them over, bowing his head to Gabe. “Sir.”

“Good.” Gabe took the cuffs and examined them for a moment. Mikey watched him through his lashes, ready to assist if he asked. They weren’t too hard to figure out, though, and after a moment Gabe guided Mikey’s hands to the small of his back and cuffed his wrists together neatly.

“Go kneel by the couch,” Gabe said. “Wait for me.”

Mikey did as he was told, trying to find a position that would be pretty when Gabe came in, that would show off the lines of his back and his arms. He wanted to look good for Gabe, to make him happy. That was the right thing to do right now. He could feel it.

Gabe stopped in the doorway, staring at him for a long moment. “Wow,” he said softly. Mikey looked up, meeting his eyes. Gabe was looking at him like he was something precious, something beautiful. He’d gotten it right.

Gabe cleared his throat and walked over to the couch, sitting down with one knee resting against Mikey’s shoulder. His hand settled carefully on top of Mikey’s head, then stroked slowly over the line of his skull, fingers tracing over his hair but not carding through it. Petting, not scritching. Mikey would tell him about that later.

“I’m not ready to level up to the advanced stuff yet,” Gabe said quietly. “But I hope this is kind of good?”

Mikey nodded, tilting his head so Gabe’s hand slipped down to the back of his neck, sliding warm over his skin. “Very good, sir.”

“You feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Yes sir?” Gabe’s voice held a hint of a laugh, like he wasn’t sure if he could do that now.

Mikey tipped his head back farther and made a face at him. “Yes, sir.”

Gabe tapped him lightly on the nose. “Good.”

They were quiet for a while, Gabe petting him and Mikey slowly sinking into himself, letting his heart and his breathing even out, moving past the tension in his shoulders and down his spine. This was good. This was safe.

“I don’t know if you know how much I think about you,” Gabe said. “I think about you, like… all the time. You and Pete. But you. I want you to know that.”

Mikey turned his head and kissed Gabe’s hand, suddenly fervent and hopeful. He couldn’t be afraid, not right now, not like this; he just took in what Gabe said, accepting it at its value.

“I’m not going to pressure you about anything. But I’m going… I’m going to take care of you. As much as you want me to. As much as you’ll let me. If I go too far, let me know, and I’m sure Pete will check me if I overstep, but…”

Mikey closed his eyes tightly, wondering if Gabe could sense the way Mikey’s heart was filling up, if this relief and wonder might be _too much_ , if he might explode.

“Maybe there’s a reason,” Gabe said, so softly Mikey could hardly hear. “Maybe there’s a reason you guys need me; you get so caught up in each other you don’t see the forest for the trees, you know? Maybe I’m meant to be here.”

“I think you are,” Mikey whispered.

“I think you are, _sir_ ,” Gabe said, his voice caught between a laugh and choking.

Mikey turned, burying his face against Gabe’s legs. “And we do something for you, right? You don’t just give to us, you get something?”

“I get everything,” Gabe said, touching Mikey’s jaw, tilting it until they looked at each other. “That’s how love works.”

Mikey leaned up and kissed him, slow and deep.

“Pete’s going to be so mad that he missed this,” he murmured finally.

Gabe laughed and tugged him up onto the couch. “We can re-enact it for him when he gets home.”

“I can keep the cuffs on, right?” Mikey asked.

“As long as you want.” Gabe put his arm around Mikey’s shoulders and held him close. “Just close your eyes.”

**

Mikey got home around five AM, letting himself in as quietly as he could and creeping on his tiptoes through the apartment to the bedroom. Pete was sprawled across the bed, arms and legs flung wide. Gabe was stretched out beside him, one of Pete’s arms crossing his waist. A book rested on his chest, but his eyes were closed until the floor creaked under Mikey’s feet as he stepped into the room.

“Hey,” Gabe said softly. “How’d it go?”

“Good. It was good.” Mikey sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked his shoes off. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I know. I wanted to.” Gabe flashed him a quick grin and nudged Pete with his foot. “Petey. Mikey’s home.”

“Mm.” Pete groaned and lifted his head. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey.” Mikey leaned down and kissed him. “Room for me to come to bed?”

“You know it.” Pete rolled onto his side and patted the mattress. “Come cuddle.”

Mikey stood up again and slipped out of his jeans and t-shirt, watching as Gabe put his book away and burrowed down under the blanket with Pete. They made a space for him, a place where he fit, just waiting for him to be there.


End file.
